THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 63

         Kerri awoke to a glorious morning. She leaped from the bed, hurried to the windows, pushed aside the drapes and exposed her naked body to the skyline of the Upper East Side and sections of the East River beyond. Sunlight poured onto her and into the most beautiful bedroom she had ever seen. Stretching and breathing deeply, she felt wonderful, revitalized. She was going to see Manhattan today. With her bare feet sinking into the deep soft carpet, she turned and hurried to the lavish bathroom, to pamper herself and prepare for a day she planned to savor against her palate and swallow like a rare wine.

Thirty minutes later, she entered the kitchen, looking radiant in her pink Lizsport. The smell of burning bacon and toast invaded her nostrils. She found Visconti on his knees and attempting to clean up a splattered egg. "Looks like you could use some help," she said with a sympathetic grin.

"Obviously I've got everything under control," Visconti retorted with a pained grin, then continued his cleaning.

Kerri rushed to the stovetop to turn the bacon, seconds before it blackened. Next, she popped the toaster, seconds before its contents burst into flames. She broke the remaining four eggs into a bowl, whipped them with a fork, then heated and stirred them in a pan.

Visconti finished his cleaning, then stood. "Thank you," he said, embarrassed. "Cooking's never been one of my strengths, but if you'll trust me, I think I can manage from here."

Kerri took several steps backward and surveyed Visconti while he leaned over the stove. He looked youthfully svelte in his tight black track suit. She resisted an urge to throw her arms around him, hug him and thank him again for rescuing her, for being there, for making her happy, for everything. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, feeling redundant.

"You can take a seat at the bar," Visconti offered. "Breakfast is about to be served."

"I'm not going to let you serve me," Kerri snorted. She snatched the spatula from Visconti's hand and moved to the stove. After filling both plates, she placed them on the bar.

Visconti sat on one of the captain's chairs and studied his plate. "Not only is she beautiful and intelligent, she's independent," he said, his voice crackling with sarcasm.

Kerri sat beside him and grinned at her host. "I wasn't going to stand around and let you do all the work."

Visconti placed his hand on top of Kerri's and smiled. "Thank you for your help, and thank you for being here. I can't tell you how delighted I am to have someone to share breakfast with me. It's been too long...Did you sleep well?"

Kerri nodded. "Your slushies put me in a coma."

"Wonderful. Then you should be ready for an action packed day. We're going to jog after we eat all this cholesterol. You still game?"

"Definitely. I can't wait to get outside."

Laughing and joking, Kerri and Visconti jogged in Central Park, then strolled through a melange of fountains, ponds, statues and monuments. They passed numerous park benches lined with old men reflecting on their pasts and speculating on their limited futures. They continued past families and groups of people playing softball, pitching horseshoes, riding the merry-go-round, flying kites or rowing boats, all enjoying the marvelous hiatus from their week long hibernation.

When they arrived at Conservatory Pond, they stood and watched a group of boys racing their model sailboats. A short distance around the shore, a jazz band wailed, while two stilt-walkers, dressed in black top hats, white t-shirts and multi-colored super-long trousers, attempted to dance to the music.